My daughter lay in a hospital bed in Queens after a six-hour emergency spinal operation, and not a single member of our community association came to see her.
My hands shook as I pulled out the evidence. The fraudulent notary documents that Victor had exposed, with the revoked commission number. Then, the small leather-bound notebook, Min-jun’s secret double-ledger, detailing his years of theft.
“Boss Kang,” I pleaded, my voice barely steady, “Min-jun committed identity theft. This is forgery, a crime under state law. These documents are invalid.” I pushed the papers across the polished counter towards him.
Kang glanced at the documents, then back at me, a soft, dismissive chuckle escaping his lips. “State law, Mr. Park?”
He picked up the forged loan papers, turning them over in his hand as if they were nothing more than a receipt for dry cleaning. “State courts, they take eighteen months to resolve real estate fraud. Sometimes longer.”
He tossed the papers back onto the counter, a faint smile playing on his lips. “My syndicate, however, operates on a forty-eight-hour cycle.”
His eyes were cold, unblinking. “Do you understand the difference?”
I stared at him, my heart sinking. He didn’t care about the proof. He didn’t care about justice.
“I hold the physical property deed in my office safe, Mr. Park,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly tone. “And I do not care whose signature is on the paper. I only care that $125,000 in cash is delivered to my desk by midnight.”
He stood up straight, adjusting his suit jacket. “The paper says Min-jun Choi. Min-jun Choi borrowed the money. Min-jun Choi used your shop as collateral. The debt is here. The debt is real.”
His enforcers stepped closer, their shadows falling over me.
“Unless that money arrives,” Kang finished, his voice a chilling whisper, “the shop is mine. And there is nothing your state laws, or your forged documents, or your hidden ledgers, can do to change that.”
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